Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

“Of course.”

  We have a moment of eye-fucking, the connection heating up though we both hold our positions on our floor pillows.

  TJ decides to break in. “So, Prima Ballerina, tell me all about your new studio work then.”

  Eager to keep some positive momentum going, I launch into telling him all about the ballet classes I teach, the upcoming kids’ performance, making sure to also include how successful my Diva Dance classes have been and that I’m leading pole classes at Encore too.

  “I’m not going to pretend that what I do is common, but it’s something I’m good at and that I enjoy. And it’s paying off my medical bills faster than any other job I could have so that Mom and Dad don’t have to worry about them.”

  TJ frowns. “You know Mom and Dad, hell, even I, would take on those bills in a second if it meant you weren’t a stripper. They worried so much and wanted you to be healthy for so long, and now that you are, you’re an—”

  He stops himself, but I want to hear the words. I need to know what my brother thinks of me. “Finish your sentence, TJ. I’m a what?”

  He shakes his head, like he knows he shouldn’t say it, but I’m not letting him off that easily. It feels like this fight has been a long time coming, and we need to clear the air, even if it gets worse before it gets better. We’re family, have pressed each other’s buttons for so long and so well, that I know him like I know the back of my hand. So I poke at him, picking at just the right scab to force his hand.

  “Don’t wuss out now. You obviously have an opinion, so speak up or shut up. And I’ve never known you to be a pussy.”

  He growls. “Fine, you want to hear it? An embarrassment, Allie. You’re an embarrassment. You think Mom and Dad are sitting around bragging about their stripper daughter to their friends over dinner?”

  Fury runs through me at his audacity. “Oh, but they’re bragging about their soldier son? Because you’re doing so well right now?”

  He recoils as if I slapped him, and I instantly regret throwing that in his face, the shame of my cruelty making me feel small inside. I truly didn’t think about what I was saying, didn’t realize that it would sound like I was blaming him for Janine’s actions until the words were already out.

  “I’m sorry, TJ. I didn’t mean it like that, and I shouldn’t have said it anyway.”

  But he shakes my apology off, turning his ire on Dominick once again. “You think you’re good enough for my sister, huh? Because what I see is you turning her into a bitch.”

  He gets up, shoving the table slightly and stomping to the kitchen, where I can hear him breathing raggedly. My heart is in my throat as I wonder how everything went so wrong. TJ and I have always been so close, two peas in a pod. Sure, we’ve had fights, even some real doozies back in high school, but not like this. I’m horrified, embarrassed by our behavior with each other, but it’s even worse that it happened in front of Dominick. I let my eyes drift toward him, afraid of the judgment and disappointment I’ll see.

  Dominick looks to me, his eyes full of so much that I can’t even decipher everything swirling in their icy depths. He takes a steadying breath and looks at me with eyes full of . . . something.

  “I don’t, you know.”

  I lift my eyebrows questioningly, so caught up in TJ’s outburst and my shame that I’ve totally lost the train of the conversation.

  “Huh?”

  “Think I’m good enough for you. Your brother’s right. My world is dark and ugly, I’m violent and possessive, and you are light and beauty, strong and wild. But my heart has chosen you, and whether you want it or not, it’s yours. And your heart is mine. You are mine, Allison. I’m choosing to be transparent with you as we agreed, but know that it’s an unfamiliar territory for me. This is only for you.”

  I sit quietly, not sure what to say. It’s powerful, more than anyone has ever spoken to me, certainly more than a man has shared. It feels good, but the intensity of his emotions is a lot to bear, and the dark depths both scare me and excite me equally.

  He doesn’t wait for my response, instead leaning over and weaving his fingers into my hair, holding my face lifted toward him to plant a soft kiss to my cheek. I fade into the supportive hold he has on me, needing the crutch for a moment.

  The soft and hard, the brush of his lips and the grip on my head, are everything with him, driving me mad. I want him more than I even know . . . and at the same time, I’m afraid that I’m going to explode if I do.

  I still can’t turn away, and as I lay my head on his chest, he kisses my head one more time, his breath warm in my ear.

  “Talk to your brother. He loves you and is hurting, drowning in a world of misery, and his only way to deal with it is to lash out at the one person he feels safest with . . . you. I know it’s an impossible task, but don’t take it personally. The harsh judgments he had are more telling of what he feels about himself right now, not you. He feels worthless, embarrassed, lost to someone else’s decisions.”

  “You know about his wife?” I murmur, unsurprised somehow. “What she did?”

  I can feel Dom’s chin press into the top of my head once as he nods. “Yes.”

  I hear the challenge, daring me to ask how he knows, why he knows . . . because TJ sure as fuck didn’t tell him. But I know Dominick and have no doubt that he had a full background check on TJ as soon as I introduced them.

  It’s not right, it’s invasive and hostile, but it’s who Dominick is. I sigh, sad and angry that Janine is putting TJ through the wringer but not able to forgive him so readily for the gut punches he’s delivered to me tonight.

  “Talk to him, Allison.”

  I nod. “I will.”

  “I need you to know, it took everything in me to restrain myself from coming to your defense tonight. I hate that he spoke to you that way, and if it were anyone else, I would’ve destroyed them. But you are a force, Allison. Mouthy, strong, with big brass balls and a sensitive heart. Tonight, you didn’t need protection. Even though it hurt and was hard, maybe even ugly, you protected yourself. And it was glorious.”

  He lays a chaste kiss to my lips, and I breathe him in, letting the smoky wood smell of his cologne and faint hints of garlic and tomato surround me, buoy me for the upcoming storm.

  TJ

  I can still hear them. My fingernails scour at my scalp, pulling at the strands that feel so foreign atop my head, looking for any distraction. But their voices still register. He admits to her that he’s unworthy of her, flat-out telling her that his world is violent and dangerous. But even that he couches in fancy words.

  He’s a slick fucker, I’ll give him that.

  And Allie seems totally enamored with his bullshit, not hearing through the pretty to the gritty reality. When he says, ‘you are mine’, I have to crouch down to stop myself from rushing in and punching the fuck out of him.

  She isn’t his.

  She isn’t anyone’s.

  She’s my baby sister. She deserves better than this, better than him, for damn sure. She should have a good life, teaching kids ballet, performing in city performances if that’s what makes her happy, maybe having a couple of kids of her own.

  She deserves a good man who treats her right, not like a possession to claim. His assessment that I’m lashing out is spot-on, and though I refuse to admit it, the painful weight sits heavily on my shoulders.

  I’m a loser . . . failed at my marriage, though I was willing to give her fucking everything. I hurt my sister, though she’s the one person who’s always been by my side, and I’m a disappointment to my parents, who loved Janine and were ecstatically pressing for grandchildren.

  Yeah, sorry guys, definitely not happening now. It’s all just so fucked up. I hear the door open and close, signaling that Dominick has left, and know my time is up. Allie is gonna be gunning for me, as well she should. But I can’t deal with that right now.

  I need to get out of here, get my shit straight or just get shit-faced, I’m not sure which.

  Bu
t I know that I can’t be here with Allie’s sad eyes and encouragement to talk about my feelings.

  I stride back into the living room, making a bee-line for the door, but Allie’s words stop me for a moment.

  “TJ, wait. We need to talk.”

  She doesn’t sound angry, and it’s tempting, but I shake my head and don’t stop walking until my hand is on the doorknob. “Look, I’m sorry for the hurtful shit I said. Really, I am, Allie. But this shit show tonight? That guy? With his obsessive ‘you’re mine’ shit? The club dancing? You deserve a hell of a lot better than that. You should get the whole picket fence, two-point-five kids, and a dog type of life. Fuck knows, you’ve earned it. And I can’t sit back and watch while you toss it all away, working for a guy like that who’ll only hurt you in the long run.”

  I don’t let her respond, slamming the door behind me on my way out.

  Way to go, asshole. Two seconds after the devil whispers pretty words in her ear, you’re the one who cuts her feet out from underneath her. Who looks like the devil now?

  I shake my head, angry at myself, at her, at him. Down the hall, I start to hit the button for the elevator and realize with a vague unease that the elevator is going up, not down.

  I’m literally seconds behind Dominick and he should’ve taken the elevator down to the first floor to get to his car, but he went up to the fourth floor?

  Something is off here.

  I already don’t like this guy, but this is . . . wrong. I turn and quietly enter the stairwell at the end of the hall, adjacent to the elevator, going up a floor. I wish I had my gun with me, but out of respect for Allie, I left it in my truck tonight. No time at the moment, although I can bet money that Dominick’s carrying.

  Slowly and quietly, I crack the door open to peek into the fourth-floor hallway. I see Dominick’s back, his broad shoulders encased in a steel-grey dress shirt unmistakable. Silently, I watch as he pulls a keyring from his pocket and unlocks a door on the other end. He enters and the door clicks closed behind him.

  I wait one heartbeat and then close the stairwell door, pausing as I try to think about the ramifications.

  Dominick has an apartment in Allie’s building.

  I search my brain. Did I know that? Did Allie say anything about them both working together and living in the same building?

  But I can’t come up with any instance where she’s said anything of the sort. And Dominick screams wealth and privilege, from his fancy clothes to the ridiculous ring on his pinky finger.

  This building’s nice enough, a damn sight better than the barracks, but this isn’t his sort of place.

  I almost go back to Allie and demand that she follow me up here and bang on Dominick’s door. I imagine his smug face falling at being found out, but at the last moment, I stop myself, thinking.

  What have I found, exactly?

  If this is something innocent, or worse yet, that Allie knows about, I’m going to look like a goddamn fool. The imaginary image in my head shifts to one where he sweet-talks his way out of whatever this is and Allie believes him, making me even more of an ass.

  I need to play this smart. I think she’s safe, well, safe enough, for the night.

  Turning as casually as I can, I make my exit, discreetly peeking in on every floor for anything unusual, but I see nothing until I hit the parking lot. Outside, I see a black Lexus across the street, a bald guy sitting in the driver’s seat not even trying to avoid giving me an eye fuck as I come outside. Obviously, that’s Dominick’s guard he has stationed on Allie, which strangely doesn’t make me feel any better.

  I head to my truck and take my pistol out as soon as I have the doors locked and sit there for a full five minutes to see if the bald guy follows me, but all’s quiet.

  Driving back toward the hotel, I decide to stop at the bar down the street. A beer and some crappy tunes are just what I need to think this thing through.

  Leaving my gun in the truck again, because guns and alcohol do not mix, I head inside. The bar is like one of a million others all around the world, dark and dingy, with buzzing neon and a ball game on the television.

  Behind the bar, the tender’s a woman, not too bad looking, honestly, but right now, it wouldn’t fucking matter who it was, and I wouldn’t give them a second glance.

  “What can I get ya?”

  “Draft, please.”

  She leaves, and I’m able to disappear into my thoughts for a bit.

  For once, they’re not about Janine and what I’m going to do alone, but about my sister and how I’m going to help her.

  Missions . . . I know how to handle those.

  Chapter 16

  Dominick

  Sitting back in my chair, I take the time to let options play out in my head. It’s the same whether I’m in business mode or personal mode. I saw it firsthand on the chess board, learning that it wasn’t just about my next move but about what happens ten moves from now.

  And I’m doing that now as I steeple my fingers, considering every play, every angle, every possibility.

  What are the pieces of the game that I know?

  I know TJ dislikes me for frankly valid reasons. He’s taking out his anger with his own situation on Allison. Still, he was aware enough that he followed me upstairs and saw me enter my apartment. And he made Logan sitting outside.

  Those last two facts are what give me pause. It makes me wonder . . . what could he be up to? And is he thinking clearly?

  He’s a smart man, military trained and experienced. Despite the future military career opportunities, he’s a man who might feel he has nothing left to lose except for the one person he holds closest, my Allison.

  I wished I’d realized he was behind me, but I have to give him credit that he was rather stealthy in that. Only the building security system, which I’m hacked into, of course, alerted me that the stairwell had been breached.

  What surprised me, however, was that he didn’t immediately return to Allie to sell me out.

  That has my internal alarm bells beeping. He’s up to something.

  We’ve already established that he thinks I’m unworthy of her, but perhaps with this ammunition, he thinks Allie would see the logic of his argument. Perhaps he’s right, that he could spin this in such a way that it would be the tipping point for her.

  I don’t think so, but I can’t be totally sure.

  My phone rings on the desk, the buzzing vibrating it across the surface.

  Seeing Gavin’s name, I purse my lips. He’s on pickup duty tonight, making the rounds to trusted locations, and it should be an easy evening for him. Nothing worthy of a call.

  “Yes?”

  “Uh, hey, Boss. Sorry to bother you, but I’m out doing pickups. I was doing my check-ins with Logan per protocol, and I saw something he said you’d be interested in.”

  There’s a pause I don’t bother filling. Gavin’s a good man, and there are times when his garrulous nature and easygoing talk are helpful. He can put people at ease a lot easier than Logan or myself. Still, I value words like they are nuggets of gold and find that Gavin spends his far too easily, so I sit back, waiting.

  When he receives no response, he continues. “Yeah, or maybe not something so much as someone. I’m on the South Side, at Harry’s place. Allie’s brother is sitting on a barstool, nursing his second beer and staring vacantly at the wrestling. Shit show tonight, by the way.”

  “That’s it?” I ask, blinking.

  Gavin clears his throat. “Yes, sir. Logan said you’d want to know.”

  “Thank you, Gavin. That’ll be all. Continue as scheduled for the night.”

  “Sure thing, Boss,” Gavin says, hanging up quickly.

  I set my phone down and lean back, another move on the chessboard becoming visible. I doubt TJ is drinking his worries away. He’s not the type.

  He’s plotting.

  Two can play that game, and I’m a Grand Master of it. The question, of course, is which piece I should use to counter him? Never
do I consider whether what I’m doing is the right thing, whether it makes me more of a lowlife, or perhaps if I’m doing him a favor. No, I just decide . . . who do I use?

  I pick my phone back up, dialing a number. The fact that the phone is picked up before the second ring and that a soft voice answers the phone tells me the baby is asleep.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Cole, how are you and Violet this evening?”

  The way her breath stops for a moment tells me that she recognizes my voice and knows exactly who I am this time.

  “Mr. Angeline!” she says, and I can hear her moving before her voice picks up again, this time louder. “How . . . I mean, uhm . . . how are you?”

  “Shh,” I reassure her, “No need to wake the baby. I’m just checking in.”

  “Oh, we’re fine,” Miss Cole says, relieved but still suspicious. “Although I’m wondering why you’re calling. Robbie’s been good. We’re all good here.”

  Her words are stilted, coming bit by bit, but she’s centering herself as the strong woman I know her to be with every syllable, protective of her blossoming family.

  “Good, good. Speaking of which, is Mr. Zallow available presently?”

  “I . . .”

  I know she’s going to tell me no, so I cut her off, letting a threat enter my tone. “Put him on the phone.”

  She sighs, and I hear more footsteps, a door open, and then she says in a background voice, “For you. It’s Angeline.”

  There’s a rustle and then a deep voice comes on the line. “Yeah?”

  I’m not accustomed to being greeted so casually, but this man owes me no respect beyond basic civility. In some ways, it’s refreshing, even if it is something I will need to curtail in the future.

  And good form requires me to demand it anyway. “Mr. Zallow. I have an assignment for you.”

  He huffs a small laugh. “Polite decline. We’ve gone over this already. My allegiance isn’t to you, and it never will be.”

  “Oh, but you do have a previous allegiance,” I remind him, revealing my trump card. “To your military brethren.”